


Dwarven Ale

by torilokiderp



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 19:37:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4449587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torilokiderp/pseuds/torilokiderp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camped one night on the journey to the Temple of Dumat, Adahllin Lavellan and her companions indulge in some dwarven ale. Cullen returns to the drunken group and must persuade the Inquisitor to rest for the journey in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dwarven Ale

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a little something I wrote one night (4 in the morning). Just a little cutesy thing, no smut. :)

Orlais was much warmer than the cold atmosphere of the Frostback Mountains, and the nights were much more pleasant to sit in without the worries of freezing one's toes off. The journey to the Temple of Dumat was a slow one, with the Commander being cautious of what their movements into enemy territory could do--alerting Samson's forces and causing the ambush of their small party being one situation he feared. At times when they settled down to camp for the night, he would scout ahead with a few soldiers and return, never letting his guard down for too long, though the Inquisitor's companions seemed intent on relaxing when they could.

"It's dwarven ale. Some of the best I could find." 

"Yech, it stinks."

"It's supposed to stink."

Seated around the campfire, Inquisitor Adahllin Lavellan and her companions observed the dark, square bottle held up by the Iron Bull, almost dwarfed in his large hand. Sera, seated at Adahllin's side, plopped back down after sniffing the certainly noxious drink, prompting a grunt from the other woman as her elbow rammed into her chest and her bottom landed on her leg. With a brief apology, she scooted over, back onto her previous seat on a rumpled coverlet.

"Is that all you've brought?" Dorian asked from his spot across the fire, displeasure clearly written on his features. "I swear I can smell it from here; it's appalling."

"You don't need to drink it, but it's the only way anyone here is getting drunk tonight."

"I'll have a bit, yeah? But if I die, you'll regret it." Sera dragged herself towards the pack they kept for such utensils for meals and after rummaging through it, brought out a dented metal mug, holding it out to the mercenary captain, who readily poured the dark and pungent drink. Bringing it back, the rogue briefly sniffed it before thinking better of it and quickly downing it. Much as she tried to avoid tasting it, it remained strong on her tongue and her face crumpled as a loud cough left her. Soon after, she uttered a long note of disgust.

"Oh, I am not drinking that." Dorian wrinkled his nose, turning his gaze from Sera, whose tongue now stuck out into the open air as she dealt with the aftertaste of the ale, to Bull, who merely shrugged and raised the bottle to his lips, taking a large gulp without so much as batting an eyelid.

"Suit yourself," was his answer, an arm lifting to wipe his wet lips. After a moment of silence, he held the bottle out to Sera, and despite her clear disgust, she held the mug out, quietly receiving more of it.

All the while, Adahllin had been sitting silently with only an amused expression on her face. Admittedly, she was rather exhausted from that day's journey, and her companions could usually tell when she would most likely drop into sleep at any moment by her quiet observance. They weren't quite willing to allow her to rest so early this night, and Dorian set his eyes on her with a smile.

"So," he started, reclining easily against the log he seemed to have situated for himself. "What about our dear Inquisitor? Will she partake?"

The elf first blinked in response, soon snapping her attention to the dark bottle in Bull's hand, her mouth opening and closing as she searched for her answer. Lifting a hand from its resting place upon her belly, she gave a weak sort of shrug, smiling in a nervous way. "I don't know if I should," she said finally, her voice low and her gaze returning to the mage across the fire. "Much as a beverage would relax me, that beverage seems too strong for me."

"Just a sip!" Sera exclaimed, the drink already working in her system--and it was a very strong drink. With a giggle, she pushed the mug into the woman's hands. The rest watched her in anticipation.

"I--" Adahllin gazed down into the black contents of the mug, crinkling her nose at the odor wafting upwards. Dubious, she gave the others a questioning stare.

"Just a small sip!" Dorian urged, waving his hand forward as if he could coax her into tipping the liquid into her mouth.

Tightening her lips into a thin line, she managed a weak frown at her. "Then you must drink with me!" 

This earned a gasp from the mage, and he began to protest. Finally, her firm gaze defeated him, and he weakly gestured for another cup to be handed to him. Sera, it seemed, had already passed an empty cup to Bull, who quickly filled it and shoved it into the waiting man's hands. Both ready, Adahllin gave a small nod, and soon enough they were both downing what tasted like death's own sweat. Their coughing was drowned out by Bull's booming laughter. The elf rather wished she hadn't agreed to drinking it all, but something about the harsh burn appealed to her and gave her a cozy warmth. After this initial choking fit, she sat still before quickly lifting the mug.

"More."  
__________

Perhaps he had scouted far enough, Cullen decided, and with a quick gesture to the other soldiers, they turned their horses and started back for the camp. The trail ahead seemed safe enough to take on tomorrow's journey and there had been no sign of enemy camps nearby. Still, they were venturing further and further into Red Templar territory and he wouldn't be surprised if an ambush was hatched on them soon enough. The thought did worry him; it left an unsettling sensation in his stomach and he owed it to the fact that she was with him. It was the first time that he had traveled with her on a mission, and he was certain Adahllin could handle herself--yet he was still concerned for her safety. She was a powerful and capable mage, but so looked so-- delicate. She was a very kind soul, sympathetic to many, and it was difficult to imagine her being fierce or ruthless in any way. She will be fine, he reminded himself time and time again, glancing her way as she rode proud upon her hart beside him. She is strong.

Within an hour, the campfire was visible before him, and as they approached, a raucous tune reached his ears. He recognized the voices as Sera and--Adahllin. Furrowing his brows in confusion, he rode on until the off-key song was at its loudest, and his boots dropped onto the ground. Entering the camp, he found the two women sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, singing and giggling into their cups with the Iron Bull looking on with a rather serene expression, bottle in hand and Dorian tucked into his side emitting the loudest snores to ever reach his ears. The Commander stood dumbfounded until he finally drew the attention of the Inquisitior.

"Cullen!" The song died off and the elf set aside her cup before hopping up, her foot effectively kicking it over and spilling its dark contents. He noticed that her steps were definitely more... ungraceful than usual as she made her way to him. Reaching him--crashing into him--she attempted to hug his neck, first scrabbling at the fur at his shoulders and then lifting herself on her toes to clutch the fur below his neck. Before he could could open his mouth to ask what she had decided to drink, she placed a sloppy kiss on his lips, and he tasted the sour remnants of the ale.

Holding her sides, he steadied her as she pulled back, where she teetered on her toes with only a blissful shine in her eyes. Cullen peered over her head at the bottle Bull held on his knee and his frown deepened. "What did you all drink?"

"Ale. Direct from Orzammar. Can't find better." Bull took the final swig of the liquid, holding out the bottle when it was empty and dropping it. "Might want to get her to bed now."

Groaning quietly, he turned to see Sera already fast asleep on the coverlet, the lull in their activities allowing for her depleted energy to catch up with her. His attention was drawn back to Adahllin, who had pressed her face into the side of his neck and was currently leaving a wet trail of kisses on his skin. Sleep was definitely best, he decided, and he gave a brief pat to her back as he began to lead her to their tent.

"Cullen, you werr gone s-so long," he heard her said, her voice muffled and vibrating on his neck.

"Long enough to let you drink yourself into a stupor." Wrapping his arms more securely around her middle, he lifted her so that her toes seemed to poke into the tops of his boots. This sped up their progress across the camp, the pair stumbling along, the elf clinging too tightly to her Commander.

"'S not a stupor. I'm fine. Complee'ly fine. I jus' missed you." Cullen felt her nuzzle him with her nose, and he felt the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. "You smell good. So good..." Soon enough she was mumbling incoherently into his ear, and the few words that he could understand described perfectly what she wanted from him, and it succeeded in making his skin flush red at his cheeks. Rather than answer her, he patted her back again as one would do to comfort a child. Thankfully, their tent was just ahead. Shuffling in and unlatching her from his body was quite a task, he discovered.

Her whines of protest made him reluctant to pull her away, but it had to be done or he would be forced to sleep in his armor for the rest of the night. Hooking one hand on her shoulder and the other at her waist, he pried her off and urged her onto the bedroll. For a moment, he was free, but with surprising strength, she yanked him down and he would have squished her had he not braced his hands on either side of her head. Her legs snapped around his waist, her arms taking their place around his neck again. He couldn't deter her with his words as she silenced him with her mouth. Tapping her arm, he broke for air and held her down by her shoulders.

"Wait, wait," he managed to say, reaching to smooth back her mussed hair. "Not tonight, darling." He could hear her whimper in response, finding her watery gaze in the dim light.

After a time, she answered, her voice so soft, and from the way it cracked, he supposed his refusal did bring her to tears. "But I want you..."

Smiling, he brushed his thumb over his cheek, a faint laugh escaping him as he caught the movement of her bottom lip as it began to tremble. "Tonight, you need rest." Placing a gentle kiss to her brow, he shuffled back from his place, focusing now on removing his armor for the night.

Adahllin merely watched him, her lips pushed forward in a pout. Her body did feel heavy now, the exhaustion that had been forgotten with the ale in her system returning and seeping into her bones. When Cullen kicked off his boots and finally settled in beside her, she rolled into him, her arm dropping heavily on his neck, drawing him in for another firm kiss. He was prepared to urge her against pursuing other activities again. Rather than continue, however, she shared a blissful smile and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, mumbling only a brief phrase ("Love you.") before promptly dropping off into sleep.

She may not have remembered anything of that night the next morning, but Cullen did. He remembered the particularly loud and abrupt snores and the drool on his shoulder; he remembered the short and tousled red hair that tickled his nose and the elbow that nearly broke it; he remembered the warmth in chest and the contentment he felt when he woke before her. She could recall none of it as she sat in front of the remnants of the campfire, her complaints of headaches ringing as loudly as those of her companions, and Cullen could only grin and press his palm against her forehead and receive a collective groan as he cheerily reminded them that they must be on their way.


End file.
